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sophia
Sunday, December 21, 2008I wrote this c. 2003.
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Sophia entered the room
and his world, a nebular eruption
But she doesn’t notice this
because hers is a pedestal
of fame and family
Yet he still dreams of Sophia
in an ice-grounded lame surface
on the other side of her island of folly
She lives in silence, apart from his
Existence
And sophia, lost
in an unreachable
ocean of visualization
He lives, and smells the fresh
fragrance of the perfume
she doesn’t wear
Maybe it’s under his nose;
He sees her kneeling in front of him
At the same time,
Sophia is staring at him from a distance
far away
Far from delusional thoughts:
He is patting the dog lying at his feet
in a place where once upon a time
He held her hand…
No pool of oblivion
Just touch of hand
His feet feeling a patch
of earth
of stones and sand;
Of only
stones and sand
© Ian Pestelos
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It’s nice to see you still TRY to write as much as you can. I’ve long given up on it. Work seems to have muddied up all my bright thoughts and ideas up there.
Hope you still remember me though ;p
Posted by Hanne at December 28, 2008, 4:34 pm